PLEA
by writersblock700
Summary: Peeta Mellark lives with the guilt of what happened that night to Primrose Everdeen. When he meets and falls in love with her grieving sister, Katniss, he realizes that revealing the truth about his past could jeopardize their promising future.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

A/N: It's been sooo long since I posted anything... My goal was to begin building this fic without publishing it just yet. Then, I accidentally published it, so here goes! This story has been brewing in my mind for a really long time, and I can't wait to complete it. But, please be patient with me; an update to "The Lover and The Best Friend" is next, and then "Amaranthine." Writing time is super limited, but I will do my best to update quickly. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

He didn't hear his cell phone ringing until he had one foot inside his back door. He dusted his palms against his thighs, unconcerned about yet another soil smudge on his navy sweatpants, as he rushed to the kitchen island where his phone glowed. The face on the screen prompted a quiet laugh and the 'shaking my head' reaction that Finnick Odair earned after years of friendship.

They greeted each other the way they always did, first with banter and then with genuine affection. It was always good to hear from Finnick. But had Peeta Mellark known what Finnick needed to say, he never would never have answered the phone.

 _Annie had accepted his proposal. There were getting married in eight months, in May, in District 4. They wanted him to be Finnick's best man..._

"If it weren't for you, Annie and I never would have met." Peeta could hear an even deeper sincerity in Finnick's voice. "My entire life changed that day. Sooo… You have to say 'yes.' Please, please, please, please say yes."

His response was physical, emotional, and mental. Simultaneously, a knot was rising to his throat and there was a sinking feeling in his stomach. He lowered his eyelids, holding them shut as he attempted to withstand an onslaught of emotions that were never fully contained. And, his mind was racing.

 _Annie is one of her closest friends; she will be there. NO. Never. I cannot be there._

"I know what you're thinking." Finnick's tone was tentative and soothing. As if he were talking Peeta down from a ledge. "And yes, she's one of Annie's bridesmaids."

Peeta heaved a sigh. "Finn… I want to be there for you and Annie. I really do. But I can't. It's not a good idea for me and her to lay eyes on one another much less be in close proximity for several hours."

"I know, I know. But it's been three years since you two last saw one another. And Annie said Rue eventually got her to at least listen to your side of the story - and that was a big deal. Annie seems to think she's in a much better place now. Plus, she loves Annie and she would never cause a scene at our wedding. She wouldn't do that."

Peeta ran one hand roughly across his face, noticing for the first time that his temple was throbbing."I don't know..."

"Okay," Finnick said decidedly. "I didn't want to have to do this, but you made me bring out the big guns. I'm switching to speakerphone."

Annie's sugary voice was pleading. "Please say yes, Peeta. Please, please, please. We promise that everything will be fine. Please!"

Peeta groaned and chuckled in tandem. "Dammit Finn. You really did bring the secret weapon." He paused. "Annie, I don't want to say 'no' to you... Yes. I'd be honored to be the best man in your wedding."

Their cheering and hooting made Peeta's lips part in a wide smile.

" _But_ ," he cautioned, "You two have to promise to keep me busy. Absolutely no downtime where Katniss and I will have to interact."

"No downtime. Got it," Finnick said.

Peeta was jotting down the wedding date and location when Meredith walked through their back door. She glanced disapprovingly at the traces of soil on the kitchen floor before she and Peeta exchanged a quick kiss. She set a canvas bag of groceries on the counter top before shrugging out of her anorak and draping it over a kitchen chair.

"Okay... Alright... Yes, I will tell her... Okay, take care you guys and congratulations again. Bye."

Meredith deftly twisted her hair into a messy chignon as she stepped out of her flats. She started unloading the groceries.

"Who was that?"

For some reason, Peeta needed to clear his throat before he responded. He quickly rinsed his hands in the sink so he could help unload the groceries. Now with his back turned to Meredith, Peeta felt grateful for the chance to dispel any lingering consternation from his face.

"Finnick and Annie. They're getting married in May and they want me to be their best man."

Meredith pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator and took a thoughtful sip. "They're in District 1, right?"

"Right. But they're both from 4. The wedding will be in Mariner's Point, near their hometowns." He handed her a head of broccoli to place in the vegetable crisper.

"It's lovely down there that time of year," she said. "It'll be a nice visit for us."

 _Us_. Meredith gave him _Us._ She would be by his side, and that would make all the difference in the world. He looked at her, on her knees in front of the crisper, trying to fit a whole eggplant inside, and he felt overwhelming gratitude for his life now. When she managed to shove the crisper door closed, he extended a hand to help her stand. While she added the two boxes of pasta to the cabinet, he approached from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and planting a trail of kisses down the curve of her neck.

"So will you be my date, pretty girl?"

He anticipated the blush surfacing on her cheeks. "Kiss me like that, and I'll agree to anything." She turned in his arms, their faces centimeters apart.

He cocked an eyebrow. " _Anything?_ "

"Yep. _Anything_."

Peeta hoisted her, causing her to laugh and protest that the groceries needed to be put away first. Still, she wrapped her legs around his waist and their lips united in longing. He stumbled to the bed, and they tugging away each other's clothes, his body descending on hers.

He knew how to reach her, and before long, she was writhing beneath him, reaching her climax. He finished, stealing one last kiss, and rolled to his back, pulling her to his side.

"We use to spend our summers in District 4 when I was a kid," Meredith whispered as they lay in each other's arms. "It'll be nice to visit again."

"Umm hmm." Peeta stroked her hair.

" _And_ ," she said, her voice rising as if it were an added bonus, "I'll finally get to meet all your friends."

Her hopeful smile brought the throbbing back to Peeta' temple. He replied in the affirmative, but secretly, he had a different response.

 _Not everyone, baby. You and I both need to steer clear of Katniss Hawthorne._

* * *

 **EIGHT MONTHS LATER**

Her hair was the color of walnut with traces of sandalwood. More than once, Katniss watched her start at the side part at the front of her hair and guide her bangs away from her eye and behind her ear.

It must have been a nervous habit. Like Katniss's anxious habit of chewing on her bottom lip – which she was doing as she watched the girl named Meredith micromanage her hair. But despite the nerves popping beneath her skin, Katniss wished she could stand in that vestibule at the back of the banquet room, and spy on Meredith a little longer. The woman was an enigma and had become something of a standard by which Katniss needed to measure herself. It was an unhealthy fascination, akin to picking the darkened top off of a scab that hadn't fully healed and reopening a raw, painful, old wound.

"There you are." Rue sounded relieved as she rounded the far corner of the entryway, her heels clicking on the marble floors. The entryway led to a set of bathrooms, a seating area, and a long corridor that connected the banquet room to the main entrance of the hotel. "I've been looking all over for you. They're ready for us now. The photographer says we have to _capture the waning sunlight._ "

Rue tugged on Katniss's arm before turning on the balls of her feet and leading the way to the courtyard. But Katniss's arms were tightly folded across her chest, and she was standing with her ankles crossed; she was as physically unstable as she was emotionally unstable. She lost her balance, plowing sideways into a towering ficus tree against the wall. Rue rushed back to her.

"If I didn't know what line of work we were in, I'd think you were drunk, Katniss." Rue helped her stand. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Katniss grumbled, running her hand down her lace covered bodice and hips. "Stupid tree. And I hate this stupid dress. Pink is not my color –"

"The color is Tickled," Rue said matter-of-factly. "Pink was a shade lighter."

"What-the-hell ever. Neither color looks good on me. And I hate all this lace. I look like I fell in a vintage vat of Pepto-Bismol."

Rue chuckled, her laughter growing so quickly that she had to press her hand to her mouth to suppress the sound.

"Rue this is _not_ funny," Katniss said, her annoyance interrupted by her own laughter. "I'm in fresh hell right now. I love Annie, and you and everyone else look great in this color, but I would gladly donate my bridesmaid dress to a local bonfire."

Rue wrapped a sympathetic arm around her friend's shoulder. "Oh, I'm sorry, Katniss. This can't be easy for you. And I'm not talking about the dress." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Seeing him and all."

Katniss's chest slowly rose and quickly deflated. "It's even harder seeing her." Katniss glanced over her shoulder to look again through the french doors; Meredith was now rifling through her purse, that uncooperative swath of hair again covering one eye.

Rue followed Katniss's gaze. "The girl in the orange dress?" Katniss nodded. "Is that his girlfriend?"

"No." Katniss was still shaking her head as the words fell from her lips. "That's his wife. Meredith Mellark."


	2. Chapter 2: In the Beginning

A/N: I lied. (Dammit. I hate when this happens). I said an update on this story would be third in line behind my other fics. But, I'd already written this much in my drafts, and it was just sitting there all lonely like, and I needed to set it free... I hope you enjoy! I certainly love the story that's forming in my head. Please be patient with me. I will update every single fic as soon as humanly possible (or as soon as my super powers kick in. Whichever happens first).

* * *

"He was here just a second ago." She turned both palms to the ceiling as she shrugged. "I didn't see him leave."

He leaned with his rear against the desk, his arms folded across his chest, his lips shaped to a flirtaous grin. "Well he's not here now, beautiful. Maybe he jumped out the window." He took his time moistening his lips with his tongue. "Are you sure those gorgeous green eyes of yours didn't see which way he went?"

Sara Fox took to Finnick Odair's compliment like a mare to a sugar cube. Her voice lowered an octave. "Oh Mr. Odair, you're—"

"Finnick." He corrected, his eyes never leaving hers. "Please. Call me Finnick. In fact," he reached for her hand and pulled her a few steps closer, " _You_ can call me anytime you want."

She hummed seductively, twirling a lock of hair with her finger. "Maybe I will, _Finnick_. That is, if you can keep that _call_ a secret."

Peeta Mellark was crouched underneath his desk the whole time, hoping to wait them out. But he knew where this conversation was heading. He'd been an innocent bystander to the Finnick Odair mating call several times before. He emerged with hands lifted in full surrender.

"I'm here. I'm right here."

Sara jolted, her reddening cheeks competing with the light orange hair that lay on her shoulders in frizzy curls. She had been hired as a receptionist at Latier Communications only two weeks earlier. Agreeing to a rendezvous with an associate vice president was not a good idea.

"Peeta," she said nervously. "I knew you couldn't have gone far."

Unfazed, Finnick sauntered to one of the dark gray upholstered chairs adjacent to Peeta's desk and plopped down. "I'm your _favorite_ person in all of Latier, so you _couldn't_ have been hiding from me." He formed a sly grin. "The only other explanation is that you go underneath your desk to jerk off."

"I'll just be going now," said Sara - or 'foxface' as Finnick called her behind her back. She shot a coquettish glance at Finnick before leaving. Finnick winked in response.

"Jerking off on company time is for middle management such as yourself," Peeta said as he jiggled with the cords connected to one of the three computer monitors on his desk. "I'm just a lowly graphic designer with an unfortunate talent for hitting the power button on the surge protector underneath my desk."

Peeta plopped in his chair and wheeled closer to his keyboard. "I was trying to re-position the damn thing. And if I lost work on the Trinket account, I just might jump out the window."

"Effie." Finnick smiled fondly, as if he were reminiscing about an old friend – or a tryst. "How's _she_ doing?"

Peeta's computer chimed with its restart.

"The question is how am _I_ doing," Peeta mumbled as he tapped in his password. "Yesterday, I redesigned the same ad four times. And with all of her changes, we ended up going back to the original design I sent her."

"She is eccentric," Finnick nodded.

"That's not the word I had in mind."

"She just needs a good lay. It would change her whole outlook on life."

"What she needs is an entire team of graphic designers. And a back-up team for when the first team quits."

Finnick gripped the sides of the chair he was sitting in and lunged forward. "You're not thinking of quitting, are you?"

Peeta grinned. "No. I'm not quitting. But I have applied for that three-month project overseas in Dornlow this summer. Sounded interesting."

"That project could turn into a permanent assignment." Finnick lounged in his chair, his eyes narrowed on Peeta. "Just remember that Dornlow has nothing on our metropolis of Avondale in our fair District 1."

"Noted…" Peeta said distractedly. He clicked on an autosave version of the project he had been working on for Effie. "Whew! I didn't lose much of my work. I love you autosave."

"Speaking of love –"

Peeta groaned. "Finnick…"

"When are you going to find a girlfriend – or at least a random girl – so you can get laid." Finnick scooted to the edge of his chair. "Every Friday night, you and your dog are home watching Netflix or Hulu or… whatever."

Peeta turned his full attention to Finnick, hoping to change the subject.

"So, why were you looking for me?"

It worked.

"Oh yeah. I've got prime real estate for you, my friend. A gig to dwarf all other gigs."

Peeta groaned again, fully aware that this was probably an assignment that no one else wanted. The last time Finnick showed up at his office with a "great gig," Peeta ended up at the Golden Ponds Retirement Home to discuss designs for their annual fundraiser, all the while dodging a frisky 84-year-old named Geraldine who was incredibly nimble with her motorized wheelchair.

"NO."

Finnick's eyes widened innocently. "Why not? When have I ever led you wrong?"

Peeta shot him a look, and Finnick shook his head. "Don't answer that." He again faced his computer.

"But seriously, man, this is a great opportunity to showcase your skills. And there will be women everywhere! Hell, I'd do it if I could."

"There were _women everywhere_ at the retirement home."

"No, no, no. This is different. This is the…" Finnick fished for the folded sheet of paper from his sports jacket pocket. "This is the 11th Annual Women in Leadership Awards. You know, the one where they give meaningless awards to a bunch of do-gooders in the community. I'm sure there'll be some spicy little number there who won't mind taking you home right along with her trophy."

"While I appreciate your concern for my love life," Peeta said flatly, "I can manage on my own."

"What love life? You haven't been on a date in the two years that you've worked here."

"There's a girl who always stays on my mind," Peeta said quietly. A look of solemnity passed over his face like a rain cloud.

"Well, you need to let her go already. You're young and talented, well-built and you have that curly-blonde-boyish-good-looks thing going. You should be out there! Find someone to have fun with! I only say this because I'm your friend."

Peeta heaved another sigh. "So about this gig –"

Finnick sprung from his chair and rushed to the door. "So great, you'll do it then. I gave the other event ticket to Thresh. We want to show that Latier is an innovative advertising and design firm of fresh, young, attractive faces. You guys can go on the company's dime – tuxedo and all will be included."

"Tuxedo?," Peeta winced.

Finnick was halfway out the door. "Yeah. It's formal," he shouted over his shoulder as he left.

"Wait!" Peeta rushed to his office door. "What are you not telling me, Finnick?"

"Nothing much. I already emailed the info." He disappeared into the stairwell, his voice trailing behind him. "I hope we're still friends after this."

Peeta heaved a sigh and rounded his desk. A few clicks later, he was opening his inbox, silently reading Finnick's message.

"Ten – _Ten days_! This event is in _ten days_! Shit. Finnick!"

The client requested a "full ticket" as they called it at Latier – five or more design items in a package: a large outdoor horizontal banner, four large vertical banners for the event venue, an ad for print publication and digital signage, a 15-page program designed to include the names and brief bios of all the awardees, a Power Point template customized to each presentation, and 500 'thank you' cards. And, Peeta had to have mock-ups of the various deliverables completed in under two days.

Anger surged through Peeta like water racing through a hose. He paced the room to calm himself, his hand cupping his mouth. Moments later, he yanked the phone receiver from its cradle and finger-punched Finnick's four-digit extension. Of course, it went to voicemail.

"Ten days?! With two days for mock ups for an event that doesn't even have a logo yet?! ... Let me be very clear; you _owe_ me for this Finnick. And by 'owe me,' I mean an entire weekend alone with your burgundy 1978 Porsche 928 with the cream interior."

He slammed the phone to disconnect the call, locked his computer screen, grabbed his MP3 player, and headed downstairs to the third floor employee fitness room, where he chose the mountain course on the treadmill menu and ran for five minutes to relieve some tension.

Back in his office in barely a better mood, Peeta saved his work on the Trinket account, and read more calmly through Finnick's email.

 _Contact person is Sybil Lyme… call her personal cell phone to set up an initial meeting to discuss the project. 555-1701._

He lifted his phone receiver and dialed the cell number.

"Hello, Ms. Lyme? … Yes, this is Peeta Mellark from Latier Communications. I was hoping we could meet this afternoon to discuss your design needs for the Women in Leadership Awards banquet… 3:30 works for me. Yes, I know where that is… Okay, great. I'll see you then."

* * *

Compared to the incredibly high-maintenance Effie Trinket, Sybil Lyme was a breath of fresh air.

She arrived in an oversized black SUV that dwarfed Peeta's midnight blue Toyota 4Runner, and she emerged – a stately figure – wearing all black underneath an intricate gray and white Aztec-print cape.

She offered apologies as she extended her hand to Peeta.

"We regret the late notice. Our regular graphic designer is on maternity leave, and her temporary replacement sent an email this morning stating that she would be managing her boyfriend's band and moving to the Capitol, effective immediately."

"Wow," Peeta shook his head. "So much for two-week's notice."

"It worked out for the best anyway. We accessed her files and took a look at her final designs. My four-year-old could have done better. We should have sought someone from Latier from the very beginning."

At only nine years in existence, Latier Communications, founded by technology guru Beetee Latier, had become the premiere multi-platform digital agency in all of Panem. Unlike many of the existing advertising and design firms that only dabbled in new age marketing, Latier branded itself as being a league of digital innovators in branding, marketing, narrative-based advertising, and design. The company's stated mission was "to create a memorable and engaging user experience" in any medium. Peeta aspired to work at Latier since his sophomore year of college when he met Beetee during a campus recruitment visit to the media arts program that Peeta was enrolled in.

"I'm glad we could help," Peeta said.

The event venue was within walking distance, a palatial, rustic two-story, open-air pavilion with a brick façade and gray concrete floors.

"This place is gorgeous." Peeta turned slowly, taking it all in. "I've never had a reason to come here before."

"Oh, it's one of my favorite places in all of Panem," Sybil said. "If the weather cooperates, it's the best place for banquets, weddings, concerts… everything."

Since the space was vacant, they had to sit at the top of the stairs that led down into the pavilion. Sybil told Peeta more about the event, and explained that she needed a design that was regal, celebratory, and… and...

"Impactful," Peeta offered. "Like the women you're honoring."

"Yes! That's exactly what I'm trying to say."

Peeta reached into his messenger bag and extracted his iPad. "Since our time is limited, I read a few articles about last year's event and the award recipients. I drafted three quick designs using last-year's logo as a guide."

He handed his iPad to Sybil and talked her through each version.

"Peeta, these are amazing." She kept returning to the second set of designs cast in shades of deep violet and pewter. "Wow, you're good."

Sybil smiled at the screen. "This is it. This is the design I want. Perfect for a formal evening event, regal, celebratory, and impactful." She let out a sigh of relief. "You're a godsend Peeta. You are a smart, innovative, incredibly thoughtful and efficient young man. Thank you a million times over for taking this project under these impossible circumstances."

Peeta smiled graciously. Her gratitude was worth him skipping lunch to prepare for their meeting.

"I'm glad it worked out, Sybil." He pulled out his stylus pen and asked Sybil to sign her name over the design to indicate her selection. He reviewed her order with her. "I just need the information that you want included on each project, and I'll take it from there."

"I'll have my secretary, Nima Santos, send you all the files. It'll be there before you return to your office. And I know I'm already asking a lot, but could you finish the programs first? We want to make sure we proofread the bios."

"No problem," Peeta said as they both stood. "Now that we have a design, I can ask another designer work with me on the layout. I hope to have everything returned to you as fast as possible."

They exchanged business cards, and Sybil thanked him again as they parted ways.

After picking up lunch from a nearby deli, Peeta returned to the office and checked his email. As promised, the message was waiting from Nima Santos on behalf of Sybil Lyme. He took a bite of his Rueben and opened the attached file titled 'Programs.'

 _Let's see… Oh cool, there are only seven award recipients this year. Last year there were about 12. There should only be seven bios then; that won't be so bad. I might be able to wrap up most of the bios by the end of the day._

He chewed thoughtfully, sipping from his bottle of water. Then he reached the end of the awards list. And he froze. Finally, his lips were able to form the words on the screen.

 _Katniss Everdeen… The PLEA Network. Thirty and Under Trailblazer Award._

He choked down his bite of sandwich and began pacing his office.

 _They have to be related; that's an uncommon last name. Everdeen. Katniss. Primrose. Everdeen._

Back at his chair, Peeta opened a new tab on his Internet browser, and typed 'PLEA Network' into the search.

He was right. The Primrose Lillian Everdeen Action Network, the PLEA Network. The organization's website was shabby, probably one of those drop and drag templates. There was no photo of Katniss Everdeen, and he dared not click on the "About Us" tab. There would certainly be a picture of _her._

He sat back in his chair, his heart pounding in his chest.

He would be designing this bio in relation to Primrose Everdeen. The girl who always stayed on his mind.

* * *

A/N: PLEASE share your thoughts. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3: Space and Time

A/N: This chapter needed some editing and direction, so it was easier and faster to work on. But, updates for my other fics are in the works. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Thresh Emmanuel could not explain why there was a ticking wall clock in the fourth floor conference room just past his and Peeta's offices. Each of the five levels of Latier had its own meeting space, and each of the other conference rooms had no clocks, nothing to validate the amount of time spent in lengthy meetings. But here, on the fourth floor there was a clock, polished chrome, the size of a bicycle tire.

Thresh looked up at the clock then squinted at the bottom right corner of his laptop screen. It was 9:57 pm; he'd started work that morning at 10 am, and when he arrived Peeta had already been there for two hours - in pretty much the same position as he was in now, hunched over his computer screen. Thresh had barely been in his office for five minutes when Finnick, through duplicity and flattery, corralled him into helping Peeta with the Leadership Awards project.

But Finnick knew it would be an easy sell. Thresh and Peeta were best friends, having been roommates for their final semester at Templesmith University in District 1, not far from Latier Communications headquarters. When Thresh was initially told that he did not have a roommate for his final semester in college, he planned to turn one side of his dorm room into a gaming hangout for himself and his friends. Then, the day before classes began, Peeta Mellark and his father knocked on the door with a room assignment in hand and Peeta's belongings in tow.

Peeta and Thresh became instant friends. Peeta transferred to Templesmith from a college in District 12 that Thresh never heard of. Thresh was from a small town in District 11 that Peeta never heard of. But they were both in the same program, both had a passion for unconventional design and new digital technologies, and both were assembling online portfolios in hopes of landing jobs at Latier.

Coincidentally, they each had exposure to Latier. Thresh had been selected for a prized internship at Latier the summer before graduation, but he and the other attendees did not have the benefit of learning directly from Beetee Latier, who was on sabbatical that summer. Peeta interacted with Beetee when he visited Peeta's old college campus. Their conversation was only about ten minutes long, but in that time, Peeta gained valuable insight into becoming a successful job candidate for Latier.

So, Peeta and Thresh formed a pact to share information and insight with each other in hopes that they would both be hired. Their mutual support of one another soon extended beyond the job search. At one point that semester, Thresh's grandmother died, and he needed to return home for a week. Peeta submitted Thresh's graduation application and scheduled his portfolio defense so he did not miss those important deadlines. And Peeta, who wore a prosthesis on one leg, needed to miss a few classes due to therapy appointments. Thresh recorded lectures and shared notes and collected handouts to keep Peeta from falling behind.

Now, two years into their employment at Latier, they were the last two stakeholders in the building that night. They brought their laptops to the conference room and had two boxes of pizza delivered, which they shared with the cleaning crew, who had left hours ago.

"I've gotta call it." Thresh yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Even my computer is tired. It keeps putting prune purple in place of plum purple. Not that there's much difference in these Pantone colors."

"Umm hmm," Peeta murmured, not breaking his gaze from his computer screen.

"I knocked out the design for the vertical banners because we'll need to special order those, and I'm almost done with the bios, like you asked." Thresh glanced down at the printed order detail beside his laptop. "The one I have left is _Kat-niss Everdeen_?

Peeta stiffened.

"That's an unusual name," Thresh continued. "Then again, I'm the only Thresh I know..."

"I needed you to finish the bios first _then_ design the banners," Peeta said with mild annoyance. "We have to get those bios over to the event organizer."

"I only have one more to do - the Kat-niss lady." Thresh shrugged. "I can knock that one out in the morning."

Thresh watched Peeta run his hands roughly down his face. Peeta looked beyond exhausted - haggard even. It was as if he hadn't slept at all the night before.

"Hey, you alright, man? We've pulled many a late night on projects, but tonight you look like death warmed over."

"I'm fine," Peeta mumbled, his eyes back on his computer screen. From Thresh's silence, he didn't believe him.

Peeta leaned back in his chair and exhaled, trying to release the tension from his body and face. His eyes softened a bit. "I'm just ready to be done with this project is all. I really appreciate your help, Thresh."

Thresh nodded and smiled, tiredly. "We help one another. It's what we do."

Peeta looked at his best friend, wondering if those words were really true. Wondering how much their friendship could survive and if they would still be friends had they known one another at a different time and place.

"By the way," Peeta said casually, "Do you think Cress might want to go with you to this banquet awards thing?"

Thresh and Cressida Mulroney, a local documentary producer and mixed metal artist, had been dating for the past three years. She was a graphics student at Templesmith, but switched her major to cinematography.

"It could be great networking for her. And I really don't want to do the whole tuxedo thing."

 _And hearing a speech about Primrose Everdeen will only tear my heart out._

"Oh no you don't, Peeta," Thresh joked as he stood and put on his jacket. "If _I_ have to go, _you_ have to go. Besides, Cress has an exhibit that night that I'll have to miss because of this thing."

Peeta knew there was no way of getting out of this. He had to attend, and he had to sit and listen to every speech - including the one from Katniss Everdeen. But he knew it was what he deserved.

 _Actually, I deserve far worse._

* * *

The already stunning pavilion was beautifully transformed for the leadership awards banquet. Diamonds and crystals draped from the ceiling in wide, glistening canopies, accented by a single, opulent chandelier. Along each wall were sheer white curtains illuminated by a background of clear mini-lights. Fifty round tables, each seating six, were covered in crisp, black table cloths and topped with 24-inch silver candelabras that held a vibrant floral spray in an assortment of pink, purple, yellow, orange, and green. Rectangular six-foot tables, also covered in black, were angled in two corners at opposite ends of the pavilion, boasting a collection of fancy hors d'oeuvres. An open bar with a black-vested bartender was next to one of the hors d'oeuvres tables.

On the stage was a podium, microphone and a large LED screen amid a backdrop of sheer curtains and mini-lights. The two vertical banners Thresh designed were on either end of the stage and Peeta's large banner hung on the exterior, at the pavilion entrance. A live band sent sounds of piano, saxophone, trumpet, and drums floating through the cool evening air.

Peeta and Thresh arrived 20 minutes into the cocktail hour, about 25 minutes before the reception began. Finnick asked them to network and talk up Latier to some of the "rich bastards" who were sure to be in attendance. They decided to separate and 'work the room.' Thresh ordered a bottle of beer from the open bar and brought a ginger ale for Peeta, who did not drink alcohol.

While Thresh could network when he needed to, networking was one of Peeta's strengths. He was a natural conversationalist, and his affability and charm instantly put people at ease. But tonight was more of an effort; he kept glancing around the room to see when Primrose's sister arrived. She would probably be as recognizable to him as the Everdeen name. Primrose had golden blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes that radiated warmth and kindness. He'd stared at her so many times, but had to stop when her eyes started to appear in his dreams - always innocent and non-judgemental but enough to jolt him awake in a cold sweat.

He clutched his glass, hoping its cool condensation would keep him steady. And he kept reminding himself that she didn't know. No one there knew. It was still his private burden to bear.

The pavilion quickly filled with guests. About 10 minutes before the reception began, Peeta and Thresh chose an empty table farthest from the stage. Peeta patted his tuxedo pocket, silently gauging how many business cards he'd handed out. His eyes spanned what he could see of the room. Still no obvious sign of Katniss Everdeen. Primrose. Primrose Everdeen.

He didn't realize she'd approached until her hand was on his shoulder.

"Here they are, the talented young men who saved the _entire_ awards ceremony." Sybil Lyme offered her smile to Peeta and Thresh. Both men stood to greet her.

"And this wonderful man is Plutarch Heavensbee the community relations guru from President Paylor's executive cabinet. Plutarch was kind enough to drive from the Capitol to be here tonight."

Thresh and Peeta extended their hands to the rotund man with ample cheeks and dark, piercing eyes. His lips twitched into a smirk.

"You've done good work, young men. I know your boss, Beetee Latier. I've served on a cabinet or two with him. Good man. I'll be sure to let him know how impressed I am with your work on such short notice."

"Thank you, " Thresh responded.

"We were happy we could be of service," Peeta added.

"And speaking of service, I think it's almost time to get this award ceremony underway," Sybil said, beginning to steer Plutarch away from the table and toward the front of the room. Plutarch offered a parting pleasantry, and, as she walked away, Sybil said over her shoulder that she hoped Thresh and Peeta would stay for the entire event and enjoy the dancing after the awards portion of the evening.

Thresh and Peeta exchanged glances as they took their seats, tempered excitement dancing in their eyes.

"Finnick is going to shit himself when he finds out we met Plutarch Heavensbee," Thresh whispered.

Finnick idolized Plutarch Heavensbee. He subscribed to Plutarch's blog, made his staff read Plutarch's book on communications, quoted Plutarch, followed Plutarch on social media... If a plush doll of Plutarch's likeness was available, Finnick would own one. But, despite his loyalty, Finnick never met Plutarch in person.

As Director of Community and Media Relations, Finnick was responsible for maintaining Latier's public image. He was a direct supervisor to Peeta and Thresh, three other graphic designers, two web designers, and an advertising team Latier employed. And, since no one was hired to replace the former Director of Acquisition of New Accounts, Finnick deputized himself with the task, earning a pay raise when he showed that he and his team could manage both roles effectively. Even that decision to assume both roles was influenced by the "cover more ground" chapter in Plutarch's book.

"Serves him right," Peeta grinned. "Should you tell him or should-"

The sight of her stopped Peeta in mid-sentence. She was standing midway the room; her raven-colored hair was gathered into one of those messy up knots where even the wayward strands were perfectly in place. Her olive skin was accentuated by the black, spaghetti-strapped jumpsuit that sparkled subtly. Her nude lipstick shade complimented her darkened eyelids. In one hand, she gripped a black clutch; with her other hand, she smoothed the front of her outfit, a slight tremble in her hand as her eyes darted around the room.

Peeta couldn't look away. The mere sight of her awakened something primal, something that lay dormant in him until the moment he saw her. He wanted to claim her, to know her, to have her in his arms before anyone else could.

"Who is _that_?"

Thresh followed his gaze.

"Wow. I have no idea. She is – Wait. I know that girl."

Thresh stood from the table to get the attention of the woman standing to the right, slightly shorter with amber-colored skin and dark, curly hair. Her face lit up when her eyes landed on Thresh. She turned to the woman in the jumpsuit and pointed to the table. They began making their way over.

 _They're coming this way. Damn, she's hot. This is a much better gig than the retirement home._

He and Thresh stood as the women approached; Peeta refastened the button on his tuxedo jacket while Thresh enveloped the other woman in a hug.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here now. I transferred to District 1 for my last two years of college, and I never left. What are _you_ doing here?"

"I've been here for the past two years. I'm a graphic designer for Latier Communications."

The woman in the jumpsuit waited patiently, quietly surveying the room more than once. Her eyes landed on Peeta's, their gaze lingering. Finally, she lowered her eyes to the clutch she now gripped with both hands. Peeta cleared his throat to get Thresh's attention.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Let me introduce you. Rue Jefferson, this is my co-worker and best friend, Peeta Mellark. Rue and I are from the same hometown in District 11. I've known her since she was a kid."

Peeta and Rue greeted one another. Her eyes held an unusual warmth. Almost like Primrose Everdeen's.

"It's nice to meet you Peeta. And I'm being rude. Thresh Emmanuel, Peeta Mellark, this is my boss and friend, Katniss Everdeen."

The earth lost its gravitational pull, and Peeta felt like he was hurling through time. His breath suspended in his chest. He moistened his lips with his tongue and forced himself to swallow to coat his suddenly dry throat. She greeted Thresh first, which allowed Peeta a quick moment to try to recover. Then, all too soon, her hand was in his.

"It's nice to meet you, Peeta," she said. "I'm Katniss."

* * *

 _She's Primrose's sister! No, no, no. She looks nothing like her. Where's the blonde hair and the blue eyes? I would never have guessed she is Primrose's sister._

Her eyes flashed to his, her eye make up and the pavilion decor accentuating her gray irises; his thoughts were so loud, Peeta feared she heard him. But then she was back to silently scanning the room.

 _Her eyes. Are they gray? She's absolutely beautiful._

The ceremony got underway with a few opening statements from Sybil Lyme. Then, servers began weaving through the tables with the first of the four-course meal. They had the table to themselves. Thresh and Rue sat side by side, and they continued to talk animatedly, reminiscing about people with names and nicknames that only they knew. Katniss, who was seated on the other side of Rue and directly across from Peeta, pulled a set of note cards from her purse. Her lips mouthed words as she picked at her salad.

Peeta wanted to run away, to excuse himself and drive home as fast as he could. But he also wanted to stay. And as his head spun, as he tried to make sense of his thoughts, he somehow decided that he should say something to her.

He leaned forward. "Congratulations." Her eyes fluttered to his, and he almost lost his train of thought. "On the honor. It's a really big deal."

"Thank you," she said quietly. Just then, several of her notecards fell to the floor, fanning out around her chair. Peeta was up from his seat in an instant, rounding the table to where she sat.

"Oh, you don't have to… I could have…"

"It's no problem," he said. His nostrils flared involuntarily with her scent, something lavender and as mysterious and appealing as her. Their hands grazed when he gave her the cards. She made quick work of reorganizing them as he returned to his seat.

"Thank you, Peeta," she said graciously, almost apologetically. "I've spoken at so many events for my nonprofit, but tonight I'm a nervous wreck, and I don't know why."

"It's because you don't like talking about yourself," Rue chimed in. She looked between Peeta and Thresh. "They got it right with this award. No one in this entire district is more deserving than Katniss."

Katniss and Rue exchanged warm smiles. "She made me come tonight," Katniss admitted. "If it weren't for the exposure that the PLEA Network desperately needs, I'd be at home by myself with a carton of rum raisin ice cream, searching online for more grant funding."

 _Alone?_ That word instantly registered with Peeta. _How in hell could she not have a boyfriend? Wait. What are you saying? This is Primrose Everdeen's sister. You can't get close to her. You can't want her. Not even in your mind._

Thresh had just asked Katniss to tell them more about the PLEA Network when Sybil tapped the microphone to get everyone's attention. They turned their eyes to the stage.

Sybil began with a few words about the importance of the leadership awards and recognizing the women of District 1 who were making a difference in their respective communities and beyond. One-by-one, she briefly highlighted the work of each honoree. Then, she got to the last one.

"And finally, tonight's 30 and Under Trailblazer Award recipient is a 25-year-old firebrand who used personal tragedy as a catalyst for combating drunk driving and reckless behavior."

Peeta steeled himself. _I need this night to_ _be over. I should just leave._

Then their eyes met again. This time the corners of her mouth lifted into a gentle smile. And although his heart still raced, he found himself returning the smile with equal warmth.

And at that moment, he knew two things for sure: he was a goner, and Katniss was yet another Everdeen he would never be able to forget.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and there's more to come. Reviews are greatly appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4: Perspective

After Sybil Lyme opened the event with a brief introduction of each of the award recipients, the meal continued. The room was abuzz with chatter and peaks of laughter amid a soft evening breeze that lifted the hem of the sheer curtains lining the pavilion.

Thresh and Rue carried the conversation for their table, and Katniss, happy for the distraction, joined in here and there. But Peeta retreated within himself, silently searching for some plausible reason why, of all the people in the world, he was sitting at arm's length from Katniss Everdeen. And how she already had such a lasting effect on him.

Soon, the servers were circling again, replacing the salad plates and soup bowls with artistically-stacked plates of pistachio-crusted lamb chops with roasted asparagus and carrots over creamy mashed potatoes. When Rue and Katniss veered into a conversation about something work related, Thresh discreetly elbowed Peeta in his side and leaned closer.

"What are you doing?" Thresh whispered. " _Talk to her._ Let her know you're interested."

 _I can't be interested, Thresh,_ Peeta thought to himself. _And I hope you never know why._

But, Thresh was right. There was no reason he couldn't simply carry on a conversation with her while they sat for their meal at the leadership awards banquet. It's not like they would ever meet again. He decided that he was making too big a deal over meeting Katniss Everdeen. This night would soon be over.

 _Perspective Peeta. Dr. Aurelius always said to keep the right perspective._

He was taking another moment to decide exactly what to say when Katniss spoke.

"So, what made you two come to this event?" She gingerly stacked her fork with a cut piece of asparagus and lamb.

Thresh remained silent to give Peeta the lead.

"Thresh and I did the graphic design for this event."

Katniss took another look around her. "Wow. Everything?"

"Yes. From the banners to the programs, it's all us – excuse me," he said lightly, clearing his throat in jest. "It's all _Latier Communications_."

Katniss and Rue nodded approvingly. "The designs were the first things we noticed when we arrived. Weren't they, _Katniss_?"

Katniss put down her fork. "Oh no," Katniss murmured, grinning and lowering her head in mild embarrassment. Rue shut her eyes and tilted her head back with her gentle laugh.

"What?" Peeta asked, half smiling, half uneasy. He and Thresh exchanged quizzical glances. Did they miss something with the designs? Certainly Finnick or Lyme would have caught a typo or an error…

Rue waved her hand dismissively, seeing the perplexed looks on their faces. "It's nothing about you guys. Our fearless leader here decided to try her hand at designing some fliers the other week."

Rue laughed harder at the memory.

"You _don't_ have to share this story, Rue," Katniss implored.

"Yes. Yes, I do." Rue drew a breath to steady herself. "Katniss had clip art pigs all over the page. And I mean everywhere."

"Pigs?" Thresh grinned.

"Pigs. And they way they were laid out, some of them were in pretty compromising situations. It was _terrible_. I and another staffer literally went into her computer when she left for a meeting and disabled clip art entirely."

The four of them laughed good-naturedly at Katniss's expense. "In my defense, it was for a barbecue fundraiser. And I was only trying to help."

"And we made her promise that she would never do that again," Rue said. "Around the office we call it the ' great bar-be-screw.'"

They laughed again, Katniss rolling her eyes as a hint of embarrassment lingered in her smile.

"Don't feel bad, Katniss," Thresh said graciously. "Clip art gets people into trouble every day."

" _Thank you_ , Thresh," she smiled, shooting a mock withering glance at Rue. "We can't afford a fancy _Latier Communications_ graphic designer, so I thought 'Hey, I'll give it a shot.'"

Peeta was speaking before he realized it.

"I can help out."

All eyes turned to him; Katniss's eyebrows dipped with question.

 _What. The hell. Are you doing_ , Peeta silently screamed to himself. His mouth continued to ignore his mind.

"Volunteer, I mean. If you need graphic design support, I can volunteer a few hours per week, if it'll help you out."

Katniss and Rue slowly turned to each other, their eyes widening.

"Are... are you serious?" Katniss asked Peeta.

 _Back out! Now! Say you were just kidding!_

"Yeah. I'd be happy to help."

 _DAMMIT._

"We only have one Mac computer, and it's as old as Panem," Katniss said turning again at Rue. They talked about where they could find extra money in the budget to purchase a suitable computer for Peeta to use.

 _Well you might as well go ahead and offer since you've gotten yourself into this mess,_ Peeta silently chastised.

"I have a Mac. I can use my laptop. I'll just need a flash drive large enough to hold the work."

Rue covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh my goodness! Thank you Peeta," she squealed. "This is amazing!"

Peeta saw excitement in Katniss's eyes and a hint of wariness. It was as if she wondered why he would make such a generous offer. Hiring a Latier designer would have cost thousands.

"Thank you, Peeta. Let me give you a card." She fumbled through her purse and extracted a poorly-designed business card. "That's my cell number on the card. We'll work around your schedule. I can't thank you enough." Her smile flashed full and appreciative before she trained it back to something more tentative.

"My pleasure." He reached for the card, knowing that he would remember every detail of the way her eyes glowed amid the sparkling lights overhead.

 _It'll be fine. Just do a few designs and that'll be the end of it. There's nothing to worry about. Perspective, Peeta. Perspective._

* * *

"Are you finished, sir?"

Peeta looked into the batting, heavily mascaraed eyes of a chignon-wearing server. She gestured toward his half-eaten ramekin of creme brulee.

"Yes, thank you," Peeta smiled politely.

She reached past him, slowly, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"I must say, you have the most beautiful blue eyes."

"Thank you," Peeta said. While he didn't expect her comment, he wasn't entirely surprised. People often complimented him on his slate blue eyes, which he inherited from his mother. All his other features came directly from his father; of the three Mellark boys, Peeta was the closest carbon copy of Daniel Mellark.

What did surprise him was the touch of her hand on his, lingering, as she slipped him a business card.

"I'm a massage therapist. If you ever need to _release some tension_ , call me." She pinned him with a sultry gaze before collecting the other ramekins and moving to another table. Peeta, Thresh, and Rue sat in stunned silence several moments after she left before dissolving into 'what-the-hell-just-happened' muted laughter. Katniss sat quiet, impassive. She turned her attention back to her note cards.

"Well _that_ sounds like a happy ending," Thresh teased. "Peeta what are your plans with that business card?"

Peeta placed the business card on the table and lifted both palms in innocence. "I have zero plans for this business card. That sounds like more than a mild-mannered designer such as myself can handle."

"Well, Katniss, maybe there is an audience for your flyer," Rue joked. "Server girl might have been all over the bar-be-screw."

Everyone laughed, except Katniss. "I never would have invited her," she said. Peeta noticed the chill in her voice and pondered Katniss's words.

Sybil tapped the microphone to begin the presentation portion of the event. The first recipient, a local chef, received the Phoenix Award for rebuilding her restaurant after it was destroyed by an electrical fire. Nearly an hour and five other recipients later, it was Katniss's turn.

Peeta drew a silent, deep breath to steady himself. He had come to the banquet with a game plan. He would sit through all of the speeches, and when Katniss Everdeen took the stage as the last recipient of the evening, he would pretend his cell phone was vibrating, and he would step out of the pavilion to take the imaginary call.

But, that was before he met her, before they shared a smile and a meal and light conversation. Before her indelible impact. He couldn't just leave. He had to endure her speech, suppress his emotions. That was something he was good at, something Dr. Aurelius always told him to stop doing.

Sybil Lyme gave the longer introduction:

"After losing her sister to a drunk driver five years ago, Katniss Claiborne Everdeen took action by starting a non-profit in her sister's memory to combat drunk driving. Today, the Primrose Lillian Everdeen Action Network is making a huge impact for an organization that is so young and so small in size. With a meager staff of five paid employees as well as volunteers, Katniss Everdeen has been instrumental in the recently-passed first-time DUI offender legislation, which requires that all first-time offenders where death did not occur attend regular sobriety meetings, receive counseling and be paired with a mentor, all for three years following the arrest. The offender also cannot purchase alcoholic beverages for one year after the crime.

"Ms. Everdeen has established herself as a presence in the middle and high schools, speaking regularly to students about the dangers of alcohol. Because of her activism, beverage companies were forced to stop advertising on college campuses in District 1, and she has inspired an army of supporters who have pledged to 'Take the PLEA and SteerClear of Drunk Driving.' All this, and she's only 25 years old! Join me now in honoring Ms. Katniss Claiborne Everdeen, this year's Under Thirty Young Trailblazer Award recipient from the District 1 Women in Leadership Council."

The audience applauded. With her notecards squeezed to a near cylinder in her hands, she stood, squared her shoulders, and strode to the stage with laser-sharp focus. Peeta bristled at the way several sets of male eyes washed over her. She mounted the stage, her name emblazoned behind her on the Power Point slide Peeta designed.

She adjusted the microphone downward and tried to smooth the notecards so they lay flat against the podium. The applause subsided. She lifted her eyes to the audience.

"Thank you for this amazing award. This is a great honor that…"

She fell silent for several moments. Her eyes flashed to Rue, who nodded in encouragement.

"This is a great honor that…"

After a brief pause, Katniss sighed in mild exasperation.

"I'm sorry. I can't stand here and read from my note cards. These note cards are about me, and I don't want to talk about myself."

She paused, lowering her head to gather her thoughts. Soon, her eyes were back on the audience.

"Moments ago, I reached into my purse and pulled out this pin." She extended her hand to the audience, tilting her palm so they could see. "It's a mockingjay pin. It's all I have left to remember my sister by. I carry it everywhere I go."

Peeta drew a silent, shaky breath.

"I called her Prim. When we were kids, I was the only one who could call her that. She would say, "For you, Katniss, anything." Katniss smiled at the memory. "There was nothing I wouldn't do for her."

Katniss cleared her throat. She always spoke about Prim. Somehow, this time felt different.

"Prim was amazing. Most people her age worked at a restaurant or in a clothing store. But Prim was determined to be a nurse, so she worked part-time at a community clinic in Coldstream, which is a city not far from our hometown in District 12. The last time I spoke to her was earlier that afternoon when she was getting ready for work. I was a student at Leig University, and she didn't know this, but I planned to come home for part of my fall break so I could take her on a tour of a few colleges where she wanted to submit applications. And, I was going celebrate her birthday. I had everything figured out…"

The room was so quiet that you could hear the faint buzz of the lights. Peeta lowered his gaze, wishing he could somehow disappear into thin air.

"My mother called a little after 11:30, screaming. My sister should have been home by 10, and my mother was going to look for her when a Peacekeeper knocked at the door. The accident was so terrible that it took the officers nearly an hour to locate her wallet with her identification."

Katniss again cleared her throat and squeezed her eyes shut. When she reopened them, her gaze was piercing.

"So the truth is that while I am truly honored to be recognized by the Women in Leadership Council, I wish I never had to. I wish that almost 30 people in Panem did not die daily from drunk driving. I wish that nearly half of high school sophomores didn't drink alcohol. I wish that mothers and sisters and fathers and brothers and children and friends never had to lose someone who held so much life and so much promise and so much good for humanity in the prime of their lives."

The audience broke into applause.

"But that's not the world we live in. So I will make combating drunk driving my life's work. And I will help as many people as I can because I was too late to help my sister. So join me, and my amazing, selfless staff, and help us put an end to senseless actions that lead to senseless tragedies. Thank you."

The audience gave her a standing ovation. Rue dabbed her eyes with a napkin and Thresh whistled in support.

Peeta saw his opportunity and excused himself from the room. He went to the bathroom, splashed his face with cold water, and gripped the side of the sink, his arms locked, as he tried to maintain his composure. When he returned, Katniss was greeting a line of people who offered congratulations and words of support. Peeta hoped to slip back to his seat, unnoticed. But, her eyes fluttered to him when he returned. It was as if she sensed his absence.

He nodded approvingly, summoning an affirming smile despite the raging war within him. She smiled softly then turned her attention back to the well-wishers.

* * *

The night grew chillier. Neither Peeta nor Thresh wanted to stick around for the dancing portion of the evening; Thresh wanted to get back to Cressida, and Peeta wanted to be alone to try to gain perspective.

But, even if they wanted to dance, they couldn't. A small line of people had formed to congratulate Katniss on her award, and Rue was engaging another cluster of people, speaking passionately about some of PLEA's new initiatives.

Thresh pulled Peeta aside. "What we have here are two lovely ladies without jackets on this chilly night. We can't have _that_ now can we?"

Peeta chuckled at Thresh's raised eyebrow and grin. "Should I give my jacket to Rue?"

"Nope. I've got Rue. She's like family, so it makes sense that I look out for her. However, if you offer your jacket to Katniss…"

Peeta glanced at her. Her arms were folded tightly over her chest as she spoke. With the outfit she was wearing, she had to feel cold.

"I can give her my jacket," Peeta shrugged. "But I don't think I'll pursue her, Thresh. She's way out of my league."

 _In other words, I don't deserve her._

Thresh's jaw dropped. "Okay, I know you don't date hardly ever, but _this one came to you_. She practically fell in your lap. And did you see the way guys are looking at her? You'd be nuts not to let her know you're interested in getting to know her."

Peeta chewed on his bottom lip. He couldn't explain his reasons to Thresh, so he played along.

"You're right," he smiled, telling Thresh what he wanted to hear. "You're right. Let's go keep these beauties warm."

They each took off their jackets and meandered to the separate spots where the ladies stood.

"If your mother found out that I let you catch cold, I'd be in deep trouble," Thresh joked as he draped his coat around Rue's shoulders. She smiled generously, and the small crowd adjusted to make room for Thresh to join the conversation.

Katniss's back was turned. Peeta approached with more trepidation. He barely knew her.

 _That's right, I barely know her. She's cold, and I'm just making a nice gesture by offering my jacket. I'll offer my jacket, do some design work for her, and that'll be the end of it._

He approached from behind and carefully draped his jacket over her shoulders. She turned her head in surprise, her eyes softening on him. He watched with an odd rush of satisfaction as she resumed her conversation but pulled the lapels together, clasping the too large jacket around her.

Lyme and Plutarch were the last to approach, and they talked longer than the others. Over the blaring music, Peeta overheard Plutarch tell Katniss that President Paylor and her entire cabinet thanks The PLEA network for its "good, important work."

"Thank you, Mr. Heavensbee," Katniss practically shouted. "I would love an opportunity to talk with you more about a community initiative we're working on that would take our message nationwide."

"Absolutely," Plutarch said. He pulled out his wallet and slid a business card from between the black folds. "This is the number to my secretary. When you call, give her this very private password." He leaned over and whispered in Katniss's ear.

"Now don't repeat that to anyone. I only use that code word to prioritize appointments on my calendar. She'll know to give you top billing on my schedule. And I'm sure you'd like to know about joining the governmental grant cycle. I'll have a representative from that department sit in on our meeting."

Katniss looked floored. "Thank you," she gushed as she shook his hand. "Yes, thank you so much."

Most of the crowd had taken to the dance floor. Peeta talked with Rue and Thresh while Katniss talked with a final well-wisher, a fellow award recipient. Katniss rejoined them. An electric current surged through Peeta at the sight of her wearing his jacket.

"Excellent job," Thresh said warmly. "Your story is powerful, and you're making a difference." He pulled Rue into a warm side hug. "You both are."

"Thank you, Thresh," Katniss said genially. "You're very kind."

Peeta wanted to say something, anything, but he didn't know what to say. She had no idea that they shared the same story, and it was too emotional for him to rehash. He swallowed hard and made an attempt.

"You didn't need those notecards," he said quietly. "You just needed to speak from the heart. Good job, Katniss."

"Thank you, Peeta."

Maybe it was just him, but there was something about how she said his name. It kindled his desire to claim her – and to escape her. It was fresh torment to add to the battle that had taken residency in his soul for the past five years.

Katniss turned to Rue. "I'm wiped out. Did you want to stay and dance? If so, I'll wait on you."

Rue heaved a sigh. "No. I need to go home and set fire to these high-heeled shoes. We can leave whenever you're ready."

Rue turned to Peeta and Thresh. "We're going to head out. Are you guys hitting the dance floor?"

Thresh and Peeta rode together. They exchanged knowing glances. "Nah," Thresh said. "We've been putting in pretty long hours, so we're both ready to leave. But I'd love to have you ladies over sometime. You can meet my girlfriend Cress. She's an artist and does documentary work, so she could be a good contact for PLEA. And Peeta doesn't have a girlfriend, but you ladies can bring your boyfriends if you'd like. We can all hang out together."

Peeta forced a smile to his lips. _Good effort Thresh_ , he thought sarcastically. _Very subtle._

"I'm in a relationship, but Katniss is single." Rue seemed to be following Thresh's playbook. Katniss momentarily turned her gaze to the floor. "I think that's a great idea," Rue continued. "Plus, you and I have a lot more catching up to do."

Rue and Thresh tapped each other's numbers into their cell phones. Thresh shot Peeta a look. He spoke to Katniss.

"I should give you a card. To set up the volunteering schedule."

"Oh, um, yeah. I would appreciate that."

Peeta patted his pants pockets then grinned sheepishly. "Actually, it's in my coat pocket. Left side."

"Oh," she smiled nervously. She was still wearing his jacket. She slipped her hand into the left pocket. The first card she pulled out was her own. The next card belonged to someone else he'd met that night. The card from the server-massage-therapist was still sitting on the table.

"Maybe it's the right side," he said.

"Ah, here it is." She tilted the card to reflect the lamp light in the parking lot. "Peeta Mellark, visual communications expert. I will be giving you a call."

Peeta and Thresh walked the women to Katniss's car, a green older model sedan. The back driver's door creaked when she opened it to place her award plaque on the backseat.

"Well, I guess I should give this back," she said sheepishly, her eyes lingering on Peeta's. She removed the jacket and handed it to him. "Thank you for that. I'm rarely outside this time of night."

"No problem." He draped the jacket over his arm. Thresh and Rue cackled over some experience they had in common. Peeta and Katniss stood in awkward silence.

Thresh extended his hand to Katniss. "It was great meeting you. I'll set something up for all of us to get together and send word by Rue."

"That sounds good, Thresh. It was great meeting you as well."

Peeta and Rue also exchanged parting words. He extended his hand to Katniss.

"It was good to meet you, Katniss. I'll look to hear from you soon."

"You will. Thank you, Peeta."

* * *

Peeta and Thresh were making their way across the parking lot when they heard the scraping sound of a car that refused to start. They both turned around to see the distressed look on Katniss's face. She dropped her head to the steering wheel in defeat.

She and Rue were climbing out of the car when Peeta and Thresh reached them.

"Pop the hood," Peeta said, motioning for her and Rue to stay inside the car. But they both got out and stood with them. Peeta and Thresh covered the women again with their jackets.

Thresh turned on a light app on his cell phone and asked Rue to shine it over the engine.

"Does this happen often?"

"Yes," Katniss said, staring at the car in frustration. "I don't know what's wrong with it. I just had an alternator put in. I have new brakes. I get oil changes religiously. I even wash it at least once a month."

Thresh smiled sympathetically. "How old is the car?"

"About 19 years," she mumbled.

Peeta winced; Thresh's lips formed a silent "O."

"I know, I know," she said. "I need another car. I just can't afford a new one right now."

Rue wrapped an arm supportively around her shoulder. Nearly a year had passed since Katniss took a salary. She put all she had into making her non-profit successful, sacrificing her finances, her social life, her sleep.

"Is there any way to fix it?" Rue asked. "At least so it's drivable for tonight?"

Peeta and Thresh mumbled between each other, checking various parts of the engine.

"My best guess is that either the battery is dead or it's the fuel pump," Peeta said.

Thresh nodded. "Or your timing belt."

Worry flickered in Katniss's eyes. "I had the battery replaced about six months ago," she said. "And I think the timing belt was changed about two years ago."

"Then it's probably the fuel pump," Thresh said.

"What does that cost to replace?"

He and Peeta exchanged shrugs. "Anywhere from $300 to $600 is my guess," Thresh said.

Katniss sighed heavily. "Well that's not ideal, but it's not the worst estimate ever."

"Maybe we should look for another car," Rue chimed in. "Something more reliable. It doesn't have to be new."

"I think she's right," Thresh added. "This one will keep putting you down."

Katniss nodded, her shoulders sagging. Peeta hated seeing dejection on her face.

"Why don't we do this. Tomorrow is Saturday. We don't have to work. Why don't we leave your car here tonight, and Thresh and I can come back tomorrow morning to get a better look in the daylight. Right now, it's hard to really see what may be wrong."

"I feel like such a burden," Katniss said, her brows squeezed.

"You're not," Peeta reassured. "We'd be glad to help."

"Absolutely," said Thresh. "Any friend of Rue is a friend of mine."

Katniss smiled weakly. Her only other choice was to call _him,_ her ex, Gale Hawthorne who lived 25 minutes away _._ Every time they were together, they fell into the same trap: Small talk, arguing, sex, more arguing, sourly parting ways.

"Okay. Thanks. I owe you both."

Peeta jogged to his car and pulled it around to Katniss's stalled vehicle. She and Rue gathered some papers and files from her backseat, along with the plaque. Thresh climbed into Peeta's backseat with Rue, forcing Katniss to the front.

Peeta asked Katniss to direct him to her house, knowing Thresh would get on him later for not dropping her off last. But despite his attraction to her, Peeta knew anything romantic was out of the question. It had to be that way.

On Katniss's direction, Peeta drove to Kinnerman Parkway which led to another part of town, heavily-populated and more reasonably priced than those downtown, where the pavilion and Latier were located.

They reached Katniss's apartment community, located two lefts, a roundabout, and a sharp right from the parkway. Her rental community was small, a cul-de-sac of five refurbished townhouses.

"I'm number 875," she said.

"Are you going to be okay for the rest of the night," Peeta asked. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'll be fine. I can't thank you guys enough."

She climbed out the front seat and began collecting her things.

"So can we set a time?" Thresh asked. "Maybe tomorrow morning around 11?"

"That sounds perfect," she said. Peeta nodded in agreement.

Katniss and Rue exchanged a smile. "Call me if you need me, okay?" Rue said.

"I will. Goodnight everyone."

They waited until she entered her unit, flipped on the lights and returned to the door to wave.

* * *

After they pulled off, Katniss realized she was still wearing Peeta's jacket. It smelled like his cologne, something with hints of cinnamon and vanilla.

"Peeta Mellark," she murmured, not sure what to make of the girlish grin spreading across her lips.


	5. Chapter 5: Car Trouble

A/N: A million thanks for the comments on this story and my other fics. I have done a poor job of responding, but I read each comment like one hundred times. I decided to post this chapter with more detail than I originally intended before you guys figured out my plot :) This chapter should shed some light... I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Peeta shouldn't have been surprised when Thresh called around 10 o'clock Saturday morning to say something came up, and he wouldn't be joining him and Katniss to check out her car.

"Thresh…" Peeta groaned, taking a seat on his barstool.

"C'mon, Peeta," Thresh urged. "You know as much about cars as I do. And what you don't know, you can ask Brutus, my mechanic that I referred you to that time. He's a few blocks away on Winston Road."

"So you don't have anything to do," Peeta retorted. "You're playing matchmaker with me and Katniss."

"You only need to play matchmaker if there's no chemistry involved," Thresh explained. "You and Katniss have chemistry. And I don't want to get in the way of what could be an all out love explosion."

"First of all," Peeta said, "You suck. Second of all, you know I noticed her when she walked into the banquet last night. That doesn't mean _we_ have chemistry."

"She's into you."

Peeta heaved a sigh. "And you know this how?"

"Rue told me."

He didn't want his heart to skip a beat, but it did. Peeta wouldn't admit this to Thresh, but his connection with Katniss was undeniable, and he sensed that she felt it too. If her name had been anything but Katniss Everdeen, Peeta would be in full-fledged pursuit. But that wasn't the case. He tried to regain perspective.

"Did Katniss say that or—"

"Women know these things, Peeta. Especially about their friends. Rue said Katniss's last relationship ended on a sour note, and you are the first person she's shown interest in since."

There was no point in arguing the point with Thresh. When he decided something, it would take an act of Panem's Presidential Council to change his mind. And even they would have difficulty. Peeta tried a different approach.

"Thirty minutes, Thresh. Come for 30 minutes. If it takes longer, I'm on my own."

" _No._ For as long as I've known you, you have never looked at anyone the way you looked at Katniss when you first laid eyes on her. I know you're picky, but with this one, you owe it to yourself to see where things go. Speaking of which, I've gotta go. Later!"

Thresh disconnected the call before Peeta could object.

* * *

Once, while in college, Peeta took a personality quiz for extra credit in a human behavior class. He remembered walking around campus, trying to find the nondescript building that he must have passed a thousand times without realizing that it housed career services.

Peeta entered college as a business major to keep his mother happy and his father hopeful that he would someday run Merchant Breads and Sweets, the bakery his family had owned for two generations.

It was started by Daniel's mother, Elisabet, who was known as the best baker in town although she had no brick and mortar store. She baked from her faded yellow gas range oven, and her hobby quickly grew into pages of orders in an old, spiral-bound notebook that she kept in her purse. Before long, the bread shop that had operated in Merchant closed its doors, and Elisabet, a newly single mother, negotiated to use the lower level for a bakery with her pre-teen son as her apprentice. The upper level would a meager apartment home for her and Daniel.

Together, they ran a small but successful operation for ten years, surviving a historic flood, a period of great unemployment in District 12, an upheaval in Panem's national government, and the revitalization and exponential growth of Merchant. One night, when Daniel and his new bride Nance were putting their one-year-old son Thatch to bed, they heard a slump in the other room. Elisabet had collapsed. Three days later, she died.

Since that time, Daniel and Nance became a family of five, with Nance and the three Mellark boys joining them in the family business while they were under the Mellark roof. But after college, things changed. Thatch, the responsible one, took a well-paying job at an accounting firm in District 5 while managing the books for the bakery. Rye, the irresponsible one, moved home for a short while after earning a degree in something inconsequential. Then, without notice, he relocated to District 10 with his girlfriend.

That left Peeta. The agreeable one. The one who needed to atone for the success and sins of his brothers by carrying Merchant Breads and Sweets to the third generation of Mellark ownership.

And when he left the career counselor's office with his personality quiz results, he immediately walked across campus to student services to change his major.

"You're a creative type." The counselor's name badge read 'Caesar.' His voice reminded Peeta of a game show host. His blue bouffant hairdo and metallic silver blazer convinced Peeta that Caesar actually moonlighted as a game show host.

"Good for you," Caesar continued flashing a charismatic smile. "I don't have a creative bone in my body."

"What are my career options?"

Caesar rolled backward in his office chair just enough to pull open his desk drawer. With a flick of his wrist, he slid a single sheet of paper across the desk to Peeta. The sheet listed ideal careers for people with his personality type. Graphic designer was high on the list.

"The sky's truly the limit for you," Caesar said as Peeta stuffed the page into his bookbag and zipped it, preparing to leave.

"Wait just a minute," Caesar said with one hand lifted. "Don't you want to know your personality type?"

"I thought you said I was a creative type," Peeta asked.

"Well yes. But that's not your _personality type_." He patted the top of his desk. "Sit a minute longer. Let me tell you why you're an introvert."

Ten minutes later, Peeta left Caesar's office completely sure of his career path, and completely surprised by his personality type. An introvert? He was outgoing, affable, and comfortable with attention, so he always assumed he fell within the ranks of an extrovert, like everyone else in his family.

But, at his core, he was a shy, quiet and reserved. He could be around others for set periods of time, but he needed time alone to recharge, to reflect. However, Peeta was the rarest type of introvert, Caesar explained. Peeta could be mistaken for an extrovert if he felt a level of safety and trust in his immediate atmosphere. With that feeling of trust, his outgoing side surfaced. Without it, he retreated like a turtle drawing into his shell.

When he arrived at Katniss's house at exactly 11 am, he was Peeta, the introvert. He wanted to help Katniss with her car and leave her presence as soon as possible. This was _not_ safe territory.

 _You are only here to help her. It's the least you can do._

He was about to unbuckle his seatbelt and walk to her front door when she emerged, shutting and locking her front door behind her.

Again, he couldn't look away.

Her hair was braided to the side and hanging over one shoulder. She wore a pair of dark rinse skinny jeans and a plaid green and blue buttoned shirt. A brown leather canvas hobo bag hung from one shoulder, and his tuxedo jacket was draped over her arm.

As she got closer, Peeta noticed her face, scrubbed clean of makeup, radiant in the morning sunlight. His attraction to her pained him; her beauty was his sorrow.

"Hi." She smiled bashfully as she climbed into the front seat. "I have your jacket."

A shy "Thanks," was all he could muster. He took the jacket, stretching a little to place it on the backseat. Then, without another word, he put the car into drive and started toward the pavilion.

Peeta silently cursed Thresh for not joining them. With Katniss sitting inches away, Peeta realized how desperately he needed the someone else to be there so he could hide in plain sight. He didn't want to engage her. He didn't want to want her. But he didn't know how to avoid doing both.

The silence between them was deafening. He needed to say _something_ …

"Did you have a good night?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to kick himself. Was that question too personal?

But Katniss responded immediately, seemingly grateful for the break in the silence.

"Yeah, it was fine. I wish I didn't have car trouble, though."

He nodded in agreement. "Car trouble is no fun. But we'll get it figured out," he reassured. Encouragement was one of his universal qualities, whether he was operating as an introvert or extrovert.

Feeling her gaze, he turned to look at her. Her eyes were narrow with question.

"So, you volunteer to help my non-profit with graphic design – which we desperately need, give me your jacket to keep me warm, help diagnose my car problems, drive me home, pick me up to take me back to my car, and now you're reassuring me that everything will be alright?"

"And don't forget about picking up the notecards from the floor," Peeta quipped with an easy smile.

Her laughter came in a short burst, but a gentle, generous smile lingered. "Yes, that too. You must be part guardian angel or something."

Peeta swallowed hard. He was no protector. He could feel the color draining from his face, his chest tightening with anxiety. But these things were too subtle for Katniss to notice.

"I owe you lunch," Katniss announced, "and I'm buying today. If you're free.

"Oh, you don't owe me anything," Peeta shrugged, merging his car onto the freeway.

"I insist. When we're done here, let me buy you lunch. Deal?"

He glanced at her. Her lips were in a firm line, as if that were the end of discussion. But her eyes were doe-like and hopeful for his agreement. He knew he could stare at her lips and eyes all day…

 _It's just lunch. It'll be fine. Car, lunch, designs, then you're out of her life._

"Deal," Peeta acquiesced and forced himself to pull his eyes from her smile and back on the road.

* * *

Her car waited, looking as apathetic in the daylight as it had the night before. Peeta asked her to try and start it. Surprisingly, it cranked.

"Ohmigosh," she said, wide-eyed with optimism. "Okay. Maybe last night was just a fluke."

"Don't cut it off," Peeta instructed. "Let's drive it to the auto shop on Winston Road, a couple of blocks away. The owner's name is Brutus. Thresh referred me there before, and they're a good operation."

"Winston Road. Is that near that hardware superstore?"

"Yes. It's directly across the street."

"Okay, I'll follow you there."

Katniss was about to shut her driver's door when Peeta stopped her.

"If you don't mind, I was thinking I'd drive your car. That way, if something goes wrong, you won't have to deal with it on the road."

Chivalry was another of his universal qualities.

Katniss blinked in disbelief.

"Are you really this nice or… what's going on Peeta? You can't be this amazing of a human being."

"I'm a pretty big deal," he joked.

"Yes," she said sincerely. "You are."

Her eyes locked on his, and he was under her spell again.

"We'd better get going," he said, turning his eyes away.

They drove each other's cars to the auto body shop where the fuel pump was confirmed to be the culprit.

"It'll cost about $475 with parts and labor," Brutus said, rubbing a hand over his bald head and folding his hairy arms across his chest. "But my recommendation is that you sell your car for parts and scrap and use the money toward another vehicle. This one doesn't have much time life."

"Yeah, I know," Katniss frowned.

"But you're in luck. I know someone who's selling a five-year-old SUV for three thousand. The carpet has stains everywhere – they have little children – there's a crack in the windshield, and it needs a set of tires. But I did the mechanical work on it not even two weeks ago and it runs like a new car. You could get another five, six years out of it, easily."

"That sounds perfect," Katniss said. "How can I get in touch with this person."

"I'll give him a call right now to be sure he's home. If you two have time, you can stop by and take a look at the car."

Katniss turned to Peeta. "Is that okay? Do you have time?"

"Sure," Peeta shrugged. "Let's check it out."

She exhaled nervously and clasped her hands in prayer fashion. He wanted to rub her back to reassure her that everything would be okay. It felt so natural to do that, to touch her. He had to remind himself. _Constantly_ remind himself.

Brutus returned with a name and address on a full sheet of notebook paper. "He said will be there for another two hours, then he has to leave for work."

"We'll go there now," Peeta said. "Can we leave her car here until we get back?"

"No problem. I'll take a closer look at it."

They climbed into Peeta's car. Katniss plugged the address into her phone's GPS, and she provided turn-by-turn directions.

"I really hope this is the car for me," she said, her knee bouncing. "If I can't get around, PLEA will suffer."

"We won't let that happen," Peeta said resolutely. Their eyes met again, and her shoulders relaxed some.

 _We?! Why do I keep saying 'we!'_

With the exception of Katniss's navigation, they did not talk for the rest of the ride. Soon, they were turning into the driveway of a blue Cape Cod. An attractive, silver Jeep Grand Cherokee with a cracked windshield waited in the yard.

Katniss leaned closer to Peeta's windshield. "Is that it? Oh, please let that be it."

A brown-haired, middle-aged man with cargo shorts and a Henley shirt stretched over his pouch belly approached from a side door, the keys dangling from one finger.

"Hey there! Are you guys the couple Brutus sent over?"

Peeta was about to correct him and introduce himself and Katniss as friends. But she spoke first.

"Yes. Is this the car?"

"Sure is." He hit the unlock button on the remote and rounded the car, opening all the doors. Katniss leaned inside. Peeta stopped a few steps behind.

"We just had work done on it, and it runs great. The carpets are messy, and it needs new tires. And then there's the crack in the windshield. A dump truck pitched a rock. We would have gotten all that taken care of, be we decided less than a week ago to sell it."

"I'll take it," Katniss blurted.

"Well…" Peeta stepped closer, glancing at Katniss for permission to take the lead. She didn't seem to object.

Peeta extended his hand. "I'm Peeta Mellark." Katniss felt slightly embarrassed that she hadn't thought to introduce herself.

The man returned Peeta's handshake. "Adam Gloss."

"And this is," Peeta started, lifting his palm to give Katniss her cue.

"Katniss Everdeen," she said, also shaking Adam Gloss's hand.

"Just a few questions, Adam," Peeta said. "Has this car been involved in a major accident?"

"Never. We brought her brand new, and we've taken good care of her. We had to replace the bumper when my wife backed into another car at the grocery store, and the timing belt went so we had to have those repairs done. But never a major accident."

"And is the title free and clear? Is there a lien on this car?"

Katniss watched Peeta's easy exchange with the seller. These were questions she would not have thought to ask. She felt a strong sense of confidence in Peeta and, surprisingly, trust. He was looking out for her, and she felt immensely grateful.

"Yes," the seller nodded. "Well, I mean no. _Yes_ , the title is free and clear and _no_ there's not a lien on the car. If you decide to purchase the car, I can provide you with the title on the spot."

"Awesome," Peeta said. "And the price? We're not complaining, but…"

Adam laughed. "I knew that would be a question. We could ask for more, but our daughter is into 'paying it forward' at her school. We told her we couldn't give it away, but as a family, we agreed on a price that would pretty much make the car a steal."

Katniss was so excited that she clutched Peeta's wrist and didn't let go. He felt that same conflicting urge to pull her into his arms and hold her, and to rush to his truck and drive away, leaving her standing there without a word of explanation.

He quieted his dueling emotions and allowed her to hold on to him.

"What do you think," she asked, her eyes worriedly searching his.

"It sounds like an amazing deal," he smiled. He turned back to Adam.

"Can we take it for a test drive?" Peeta asked.

"Absolutely." Gloss extended the keys, and Peeta stepped aside so Katniss could take them. "I need to leave for work in about two hours, so if you could be back by then…"

"We promise," Katniss said. She climbed into the driver's seat, Peeta into the passenger's seat and drove for 15 minutes. She could hardly contain her excitement.

"I owe you big time for this," she said. "And thank you for asking those questions. I can run a non-profit, manage finances, haggle with vendors, and speak to anyone who'll listen, but I've never had to purchase a car from someone I didn't know."

She turned into a store parking lot. "The sedan is my first car, and I bought it from my uncle. Anytime something went wrong, I called my ex to fix it."

 _Great,_ Peeta thought. _You're among the ranks of an ex and a relative._

"Buying a car is one of those things where it's better to work in pairs," Peeta said. "Two heads are always better than one."

She pulled into a parking spot and stopped the engine.

"Okay. Your turn."

They switched sides. Peeta navigated in the direction of Adam's house.

"What do you think?"

"It drives smoothly," Peeta said. He began testing the headlights, windshield wipers, wiper fluids, and the signal lights as he drove. "I think this is an absolutely amazing find."

Katniss flopped back in the seat and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.

"You don't understand," she said quietly. "Things like this never happen to me. I have had to fight for everything in my life. But this, this has been so easy." She turned to Peeta. "I think you brought me good luck."

Peeta couldn't help but laugh. "I don't know about that." But there was a vulnerability to her gaze that sobered him. "I think you give a lot and you've endured a lot, and you deserve every moment of happiness life gives you."

She turned her eyes to stare out the passenger window, the gentlest smile simmering on her lips.

"A branch of my bank is along this road, and they're open until noon today. Can we make a quick stop so I can get the money from my savings?"

"No problem."

Peeta waited in the car while she went into the bank. Then, they headed back to the seller.

"I'll take it," she said her smile so wide she bit the corner of her bottom lip to contain it. Peeta wondered what it would take to make her smile, lush and full and unrestrained. Maybe those smiles were reserved for private moments with special people. He wondered if he could ever bring that kind of smile to her face.

"I took the liberty to type up a bill of sale, just in case." Adam handed it over. "My daughter made us put in the clause that if you have any problems within the first 30 days of purchase, you can bring the car back for a full refund of your money."

"Wow. Your daughter sounds pretty amazing," Katniss said. "What grade is she in?"

"I'm referring to our oldest child. She's a senior in high school. She's starting college in the fall in the Capitol; no one needs a car in the Capitol. She's passionate about her causes, and paying it forward is one of her causes. We also have nine-year-old twins and a four-year-old."

"Well, I'm the executive director of The PLEA Network. We fight against drunk driving. If your daughter or you and your family ever want to volunteer or participate in an event, please do. We can always use more hands and voices."

"Oh," Adam said with interest. "Were you one of the award recipients I was reading about in the paper this morning? You won an award last night, right?"

"Yes," Katniss said modestly.

"Congratulations. Sydney will be so happy the car is going to someone so young who is making a difference. District 1 is lucky to have you."

 _And any guy would be lucky to have her,_ Peeta thought. _Too bad I'm not that guy._

Katniss counted 30 one-hundred-dollar bills. Adam had two copies of the bill of sale. Adam and Katniss signed both copies in the appropriate places. He presented a signed title and gave it to Katniss along with two sets of keys and the remote controls.

"It's Saturday and the transportation department is not open, but I would take this to them first thing on Monday morning to get the title transferred to your name."

Katniss nodded eagerly. "I will. Thank you so, so much. And please thank Sydney for me."

"I certainly will," Adam said. "Be safe."

As Adam walked back to his house, Katniss turned to Peeta, and before he knew it, she'd thrown her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his is an excited hug. He knew he could have just stood there or eased from her hold. But, he allowed himself to embrace her, his arms wrapping around her back. He wished that moment would never end.

"Thank you, Peeta. Thank you, thank you, thank you." She released him and rushed to the car. "This is so perfect! I have so much more space, I can haul stuff for my events. I love it! And, I can recoup some of the money if I can sell my old car for parts."

"It's a win-win," Peeta beamed. "Congratulations Katniss."

She turned to him. "You're not off the hook yet. I owe you lunch. After we leave the mechanic's shop, I'm taking you out to eat."

They each climbed into their cars and headed back to the mechanic shop. As Peeta followed, he knew he'd done right by Primrose in helping her sister. But from the way his arms stung from their memory of Katniss's warm, willowy frame, Peeta wasn't sure he'd done right by himself.

* * *

For lunch, Katniss suggested Midtown Café, a casual dining spot known to a dedicated cadre of locals for its warm porcelain plates of savory Panemian fare. It was also within walking distance of PLEA. They pulled into neighboring parking spots, roughly an hour and half after returning to the mechanic shop and moving everything from Katniss's old car into her new car.

Brutus, the auto repair shop owner, suggested a towing service, and after a brief conversation, Katniss arranged for her old car to be delivered to the salvage lot. She then made an online appointment to have her old car 'reviewed' for parts on Monday morning at 10 am. Now, after what turned out to be a longer and more productive day than either of them expected, she and Peeta headed through the front doors of the café.

"I come here when I want something home-cooked," Katniss said.

Peeta grinned. "So, I take it you don't cook."

"Not really. Don't get me wrong, I have one of those panini press sandwich things, and I assemble one hell of a grilled cheese."

Peeta chuckled lightly. "Well your panini grilled cheese sound amazing. But when you're not assembling, what do you eat?"

She shrugged. "Microwavable meals, cereal – lots of cereal – microwavable oatmeal, ramen, yogurt."

Peeta grimaced, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

"Well can _you_ do better Mr. Mellark," she challenged, one eyebrow arched and her lips pursed in smile.

"Oh, _I_ can cook, Ms. Everdeen" Peeta said, resting one hand self-assuredly on his chest.

"Really?"

"Really."

She shot him a coquettish grin. "We'll see about that."

He knew he shouldn't respond; the last thing he needed was another reason to spend time with Katniss Everdeen. But it was hard to resist.

"I guess we will," he volleyed, holding her gaze for several moments before they both looked away, smiling bashfully.

A free-standing sign instructed them to "Please Seat Yourself." Peeta followed Katniss to a window booth in the back corner. A server wearing the mint green Midtown Café Apron wore a name badge that read "Christine."

"Hey there," she said cheerily to Katniss. "I see you've brought company today."

"I did," Katniss said. "This is Peeta. Peeta, Christine."

They exchanged pleasantries.

"Having your usual?" Christine asked Katniss, not bothering to remove the pen clipped to the top of her apron or the order pad peeking from her apron pocket.

"Yes. But give us a few minutes for Peeta to decide."

"No problem. I'll be back in a few."

He was already perusing the menu. "What's good here?"

"Everything that comes out of the kitchen looks amazing, but... I've only eaten two things off the menu."

Peeta looked up. "Really? Only two?"

Katniss nodded. "They're that good. I can't resist them."

Peeta closed the menu and folded his hands on top. "Well then. Tell me about those two irresistible items."

He watched her explain that her 'regular' was the lamb stew. She shut her eyes and inhaled happily as she described the savory broth - with an ingredient she couldn't quite put her finger on - and tender chunks of lamb, chickpeas and apple.

"And it's served with these rolls that are hard on the outside and soft and chewy on the inside. They are so good."

His mesmerized silence caused her eyelids to flutter open. "Sorry," she said, her cheeks tinting a faint wisp of red.

"I'm sold," he smiled. "I'm ordering that."

She snorted a little, her lips parting in a grin that turned into a quiet chuckle.

 _She is so beautiful. When she smiles, when she talks, when she's nervous, when she snorts... I am in so much trouble._

"I hope you'll like it," she said.

"I know I will."

Neither one of them noticed Christine approaching. "Have we decided, or do you need a few more minutes."

"My regular," she said, her eyes not leaving Peeta's.

"Her regular," he said, holding her gaze.

This time when they smiled, neither of them looked away.

* * *

It was around 2:15 pm when Peeta and Katniss arrived at Midtown Café. They were still seated in the same booth, talking like old friends three hours later.

Before the food arrived, Katniss shared that the chicken avocado caprese salad was her second favorite menu item. That led to a discussion about other popular menu items, including a stacked Reuben sandwich Peeta said he wanted to try another time.

When the food arrived, Katniss told Peeta to load his spoon with a little of everything. She watched him take his first bite.

"Umm," he nodded his approval, his eyebrows lifting some as he chewed. "This _is_ delicious."

"Told ya." Katniss looked as satisfied with Peeta's reaction as she did with her first bite.

"You were right." He took a spoonful of broth, nodding thoughtfully. "Butternut."

"What?"

"The broth. The flavor you couldn't pinpoint... I think it's butternut."

Katniss took a silent slurp of broth. Her eyes widened. "You're right! That's what it is!"

"Yep. They must puree it and infuse it into the broth."

"You're a genius, Peeta. I've been trying to figure that out for months."

They talked food for a little while longer, but their conversation soon shifted to local ingredients, farmer's markets, the benefits of natural light, painting sunsets, outdoor concerts, UFOs, personal theme songs, one-hit wonders, funny dance moves, yoga, antiquing, Capitol sitcoms, and District 12.

"Wait, you're from 12?!"

"Yep," Peeta said. "Merchant born and bred."

"I'm from Seam! That's like, what... An hour away?"

"Yeah," Peeta nodded. "An hour away. Small world, huh?"

They talked about quirky things that only someone from 12 could appreciate: greasy, delicious food from roadside markets, whiffs of pine from untouched woods that bordered so many District 12 towns, using dandelion root to make everything from brewed tea to garden salad.

"We have this place in Seam called The Hob. It's a really big roadside market, and a woman named Sae sells _the best_ stew. Its not nearly as gourmet as the lamb stew is here, but that's still my favorite comfort food."

They talked about their paths that led them to District 1. For Peeta, it was college. For Katniss, it was wanting to tap into the resources of a larger city without moving to the Capitol. Surprisingly, they only talked briefly about PLEA, and she did not mention Primrose.

They talked a little about their upbringing. Katniss mentioned that her father was deceased and had been a miner. Peeta said that his parents ran the only bakery in town.

"Is that where you learned to cook - assuming I believe you can cook. You still need to convince me."

"Whoa-ho-ho," Peeta laughed. "Challenge accepted. And to answer your question, partially. I'm a creative type, so I am mainly self-taught. I learned how to bake from my family, but I taught myself how to cook."

At some point, their conversation turned to graphic design. Peeta pulled out his phone and showed her more of his work, inviting her to scroll through his images.

"You are really good, Peeta," she said. "Anything you do will be an improvement for PLEA. Ooh... This one is terrible."

"Which one?" Peeta leaned closer

She turned the phone screen to him. It was the design a monster, injured and bleeding but refusing to die.

"It's so realistic that it's haunting."

"Oh. That one was for a haunted house for a traveling amusement park. You may have heard of it – ScareFest? They hold in the woods every fall. They needed something terrible."

"You nailed it," she said, handing him back his phone. "So do you think you can stop by PLEA on next week? It'll just be an initial visit. I'd really like for you to meet Annie Cresta, our marketing coordinator. You two can work together on rebranding PLEA."

"Sure," Peeta shrugged. "Does 3 pm sound okay?"

"3 pm sounds perfect," Katniss smiled. "Thank you again, Peeta. Truly."

"My pleasure."

* * *

Talking was Katniss was so natural and easy and the most fun Peeta had in a long time. She was interesting with a wicked sense of humor, and as they talked, he relaxed into his extroverted side.

Christine had come by several times to ask if they needed anything, and twice, they requested more water. When Christine said her shift would be over soon and wished them a great afternoon, Peeta pulled out his wallet and left her a sizable tip for tying up her table for hours.

Then, he and Katniss got into yet another conversation about blood sports. They were fully engaged when a female voice interrupted them.

"Peeta! Fancy seeing you here."

Her frizzy orange-red hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail that draped over the side of her Midtown Café apron.

"Foxf – Sara," Peeta said, almost giving away Finnick's nickname for her. "Hey. I didn't know you worked here."

"I worked here full-time before I started my 'big girl' job at Latier," Sara said. "But today is my last day!"

"Actually, I'm not supposed to be here today," Sara continued. "I'm just covering for someone for like two hours. I'm moving to my own apartment today. I am _not_ roommate material."

"Congratulations," Peeta smiled.

"And who is this?" Sara cooed, remembering what Finnick said about Peeta needing to get laid.

"Sara, this is Katniss Everdeen. Katniss, this is Sara Fox. Sara and I work together at Latier."

"I heard," Katniss smiled politely. "It's nice to meet you, Sara."

"It's _very_ nice to meet you, Katniss," Sara said slyly. "Can I get you guys anything?"

Peeta and Katniss exchanged knowing grins. "We should probably be going," Katniss said. "We've been holding up this table for a while now."

"Stay. It won't bother me at all. I am _so_ ready to get out of here. I've got people heading to my house in like 30 minutes to help me pack and move boxes, and I still have to hit up a liquor store. I'm having a Pizza and gin party. We'll probably be wasted during the move, but I don't own any fancy dinnerware that could get broken or anything."

Peeta's eyes involuntarily shot to Katniss for her reaction. He expected her to be angry, tense, or perturbed. Her reaction surprised him.

"Sara, could I give you a bit of unsolicited advice?"

"Vodka, not gin, right? A few of my friends said I should get vodka instead."

"No." Katniss continued cautiously. "My advice is to enjoy yourself, but deputize someone to be in charge. That person has to make a commitment to not drink and to do all the driving for your move."

Peeta's stomach coiled.

"I run a non-profit," Katniss fished through her purse. "The PLEA Network. My sister was the victim of a drunk driver. I try to prevent senseless deaths through education and advocacy. Your life and the lives of your friends and others are too important to risk tragedy." She extended a button to Sara. "Here's a commitment button. Just give it to the person who will remain sober and do all the driving this evening. Okay?"

"Cool beans! I know someone who can do it. My best friend is pregnant, but she doesn't want anyone to know. She was going to make up an excuse not to come so people wouldn't ask her why she's not drinking. I can get her to be like the 'designated driver' or something."

" _Exactly_ ," Katniss said. "A designated driver."

Sara turned to Peeta. "I like her," she winked, not even attempting to be discreet.

"Excuse me. Miss?"

Another table flagged Sara. She slid the button into her pants pocket and parted ways with Peeta and Katniss.

"We should probably vacate the premises," Peeta said, trying to suppress the familiar anxiety creeping toward his chest. They slid from the booth, Peeta following her to the register and out the front doors.

"I had a great time talking with you, Peeta," Katniss said when they reached their cars.

"Me too." Even his smile felt tighter. "Thanks for lunch."

"No thanks needed," she shrugged. "Not only did I get a better car, I feel like I made a new friend today."

"You have," Peeta said sincerely.

"And so have you, Peeta."

They promised to see one another at PLEA on Monday at 3. Then, they climbed into their vehicles; Katniss left the parking lot immediately.

But Peeta sat there, resting his head against the headrest, his eyes squeezed shut, two words assaulting his mind.

 _Designated driver. Designated driver. Designated driver._

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated.


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